


Homecoming

by IndraraSkye



Series: Poor Stiles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PTSD, Sexy Times, Stiles Angst, Telling the truth is hard, mention of past torture, sort of kind of a side story, werewolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndraraSkye/pseuds/IndraraSkye
Summary: Sequel to Electric Love. Derek and Stiles head back to Beacon Hills to lay some truth on a few folks we know. No shenanigans, no picking up on the main plot of what is quickly turning into a series, just some truths and reactions and a little bit of sexy times. Enjoy what is basically a side story! (This has not been beta'd. Obviously, any mistakes/plot holes/unfinished business you find is mine and mine alone. Hopefully you can enjoy it anyway. ;D )





	Homecoming

“You can end this, you know. All you have to do is tell us.” He hated that voice. He hated female voices. He hated British lilts. He hated clipped Indian undertones. He hated that woman. He flared his nostrils and gathered up what little spittle he could still produce, spitting it at the guy in charge of shoving the needles under his fingernails. The guy chuckled, the sound rumbling up from deep down and turning the pit of Stiles’s stomach. He stuck another needle under Stiles’s fingernail. Stiles huffed and puffed, sweat pouring down his face and chest, his short hair sopping wet and sticky against his neck. He strained against the restraints at his wrists and ankles, unable to break them or move much against them.

“You really think you’re going anywhere, boy? Nobody’s come for you yet.” The guy shoved another needle under his right thumb nail. Stiles screamed out. The restraints tightened, growing and stretching to wrap around his chest and his shins, inexplicably widening. The guy laughed again, his rumbling laughter getting deeper and deeper and morphing into growls and snarls. “Stiles, Stiles, Stiles,” the guy chanted, his voice getting deep and rumbly and very, very familiar. Stiles struggled and fought against the restraints, lashing out against the thick, wide fabric with the needles under his fingernails. He slashed and he slashed, but he couldn’t break it. He couldn’t cut it. His torturer kept chanting his name, yelling louder and louder at him and getting in his face. The wall behind him extended, wrapping around one side of his head. He smashed his skull against it, trying to beat it away. 

The female British voice rang out, sounding tinnier than normal. “Tell us what we need to know, Mr. Stilinski. We’ll send you home. We’ll send you back to your father, to your best friend. All you need to do is betray Derek Hale. It’s a little thing, really. Such a small, tiny thing. Just tell us everything and you’ll be free. Don’t you want to be free?”

Stiles howled. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

“Quiet, Stiles. Shhhh. Quiet now.” The guy clapped a hand over Stiles’s mouth and Stiles clamped down. He gnashed against the skin between his teeth, biting and trying to tear. Fur rubbed against his lips. Stiles looked up into Derek’s alpha red eyes. “How could you do this, Stiles? How could you consider betraying me like this? I thought we had something!”

Derek wrenched his hand out of Stiles’s mouth and turned away, leaving him restrained in that storage unit as the wall held his head in place. He was going to leave him there to be killed! Stiles’s heart beat an unsyncopated cadence, sweat beading and rolling and chafing against his hair and the cloth restraints. “No! Derek, wait,” he croaked. “Please! Please don’t leave me! Please!” His voice dropped off to a whisper as Derek walked out the storage unit door and into a light that Stiles would never see again. Derek was the last person in his life to leave him, to forget him. “Please don’t leave…”

He hung his head and cried, the tears mixing with the salty sweat burning and stinging against his eyes already. Nobody was coming for him. Even Derek Hale had given up on him completely. The guy stuck another needle under his right pinkie nail. “Shh, sweetheart. I’ve got you. It’s okay. Come back to me now.”

They’d even found a way to mimic Derek’s voice. He gave up and closed his eyes. He couldn’t do this anymore. It was too much. He’d had the nicest dream last time he was under, too. Derek had rescued him and turned him and wanted a second chance to be together—and it was just a dream. Derek had left him with these sadists to die and they’d reverted to the needles under the nails torture again…which was sort of strange. These guys didn’t like to do anything twice.

“Baby, open your eyes. Breathe in for the count of four and then out for the count of four. Come on, let me see those beautiful brown eyes of yours.” Derek’s voice was soft and comforting and low against his ear. He could feel warm breath against his ear. He turned into the sensation.

“That’s it. There you are. Open your eyes. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” Derek’s voice whispered. Stiles opened his eyes. He was sitting up in a big hotel bed, slumped against his alpha’s chest. He knew it was Derek behind him because he’d know that voice still whispering comforting noises in hushed tones anywhere.

Claws extended from his hands.

“You can’t possibly see my eyes if you’re sitting behind me,” Stiles deadpanned, slouching further into Derek’s embrace and allowing the adrenaline to course through him. He pursed his lips through the tremors and bounced his feet against the nervous energy fighting to make him move. Derek held him through it all, one hand stroking through his short, sweaty hair as consonants and vowels meant to soothe passed through his lips. 

Stiles rested his head against Derek’s collarbone, turning his head. Derek’s bicep was thoroughly torn, ripped and slashed in frenzied cross-hatch patterns. Stiles sat up, but Derek wouldn’t loose his hold so all he could do was turn slightly. A glance at Derek’s t-shirt showed bloody rips and tears across both his chest and what little of his torso Stiles could see from his vantage point. He realized that he’d done that. The adrenaline that had been leaving his system ramped up again, his heart kicking against his ribs and his eyes filling with tears. 

“No, no. Baby, no,” Derek soothed. “This was not you.” He kissed Stiles’s head and the tears filling Stiles’s eyes leaked out. He always had bad dreams after…incidents. That was likely never going to change. Trauma had a funny way of fucking with your subconscious like that. He had always been an active sleeper, too, moving with his dreams. The same held true every time he relived his real-life nightmares. But now—now he could hurt people. Now he was something more than simply Stiles. He’d actually hurt Derek. He didn’t want to hurt Derek. Derek came for him. Derek trusted him. Derek took care of him. What had he done in return? He’d lashed out and physically injured him. He’d harmed his alpha. That had to be breaking some major cardinal rule. There had to be rules about that. He hadn’t even been a werewolf for a full forty-eight hours and he’d already fucked things up. He shook his head rapidly, scrambling to get out of Derek’s hold. He didn’t deserve to be held by Derek Hale. 

“Stop it, Stiles. Stop. I need you to stop. I need you to breathe. I need to look at you, and I need to know that you’re alright.”

Stiles blinked rapidly and turned to look at his alpha. The words he’d heard hadn’t made sense. He’d hurt Derek. Derek hadn’t hurt him. He was fine. He felt a little fight or flighty, but he was fine. He was the one who’d lashed out at—Christ Almighty, what if he’d been at home? He could have killed his dad. His dad was the only blood family he had left and he could have killed him because he was having night terrors like some toddler who still wet the bed! 

He struggled and panicked, his breath puffing out of him and his chest physically heaving. He couldn’t get enough breath to do much with, so he wheezed in Derek’s general direction. He could have killed his dad. He could still kill his dad. He’d never be able to see his dad again. He needed to stay away from his dad, from Melissa. How did Scott do this, knowing he could hurt the humans in his life? Jesus!

“Stiles. I’m not going to tell you again. Stop. Talk to me. Talk out loud. It’s going to help.”

He wheezed in a breath. “Hurt you. I…I hurt you.”

Derek huffed. “They’re scratches, Stiles. Look. They’re mostly healed now. I’m gonna be real honest here—I enjoy a little rough in bed. Scratches and bites aren’t going to phase me, baby.”

“Not…not a game. Hurt you. Would hurt him. Could kill him.” Stiles huffed and puffed and couldn’t blow a house down at the moment if his life depended on it. He couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop freaking out. He couldn’t _breathe_.

Derek still understood him. “You could hurt him. You probably would have hurt him if you’d spent the night unguarded with only him, but baby, you’ve been through weeks of _actual_ torture. That’s going to leave you with problems that aren’t going to just go away because you’re dealing with physical changes. What you did? What you’re doing? It’s to be expected. I’m here. I’m not worried about a few nicks. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you. You’re alright. You’re okay.” Derek was calmer than he’d thought possible.

Stiles was not okay. Stiles was so not okay. He needed to breathe. He needed to…A hand rested against his back, just between his shoulder blades. It massaged gently in circles, moving out in wider and wider arcs. It felt really, really good. He sighed into the sensation and the palm of the hand pressed harder. He sighed again and then allowed himself his first good inhale. It felt good when his lungs expanded normally. He could do this. He had Derek and Derek was fine. Derek was soothing him. Dad wasn’t there; Dad hadn’t been hurt. Dad wouldn’t be hurt—Derek would make sure of that. Stiles inhaled again, breathing in through his nostrils. He could still go home, still see everybody. Derek would help him. Scott would help him. Hopefully. Scott…

“What am I going to tell Scott?!” He wailed. He actually wailed. He had no idea how Scott would take his change, but Scott was not going to be overly pleased that Stiles was a part of another pack. He wasn’t overly territorial, but…yeah, actually, Scott was totally territorial. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Scott had a right to be territorial. He was the Beacon Hills alpha, after all, and he and Stiles had worked really hard to protect that damn town, to keep the bad things out. Oh god, was he going to think that Stiles didn’t love him anymore, that Stiles didn’t want to work with him anymore? There was no way he could ever think that, could he? Really, he had to know how much Stiles loved him. He had to know—

“You’re doing it again. Just. Stop.” Derek growled the words gently into his ear, his breath blowing misty and soft against Stiles’s skin. Stiles smiled at the sensation. He could stop. Derek had him. He could relax and let Derek have him. Derek would know how to handle Scott. “How, Derek? How do I tell him?” Stiles whispered the last question, knowing that Derek could hear it without any problems at all. 

“You just tell him, Stiles. You be honest. He’ll understand. I’m not a stranger. I’m not some random person who bit you. He knows me. He knows you. We’re together. It’s natural for you to pack up with me under these circumstances. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing that should make you feel guilty. You’re not in the wrong; you’re not at fault here. Scott will know that. He’s an idiot, but he loves you and respects you…Stop it.” 

Stiles had pulled a face, frowning and pouting. Scott did love him, but he wasn’t so sure about the respecting part. Scott didn’t exactly stick to Stiles’s suggestions and plans; he didn’t exactly focus much on Stiles, either. Derek continued.

“He does. He respects you more than you know. He turns to you almost as often as I used to turn to you, and I used to turn to you more than I probably should have since you’d packed up with Scott. You’re brilliant and everyone knows it. We both know how much he loves and values you. He’ll love you regardless of your pack affiliations. He’ll respect you regardless of your pack affiliations.”

Stiles winced and Derek noticed it, apparently. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll end him.” He shrugged as he said the last line, completely nonchalant and completely serious. Stiles quirked an eyebrow. “You will do no such thing. We love Scott. He is our friend and like a brother to me. You’re not going to hurt him under any circumstances, got it? I know you can do it, which is why I am telling you right now that you shouldn’t. Stop even thinking about it.”

Derek laughed, the sound full and happy against his ear. “See? This is why we’re good together. You know me; you temper me. I’m a fighter and you’re a tracker. We’re gonna do such great things together, baby.”

“I just want to survive this and keep from hurting everyone I love.”

“Everyone will be fine, Stiles. Now get back to sleep. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to make Beacon Hills day after tomorrow, and I’m not doing all the driving.”

Stiles snorted. “That’ll be a first.”

Derek pushed him back down on the bed, snuggling Stiles’s back in against his chest and pulling the covers up over them. Stiles pushed back against him and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

The rest of the trip to Beacon Hills was relatively uneventful. They’d decided to head down south instead of straight to Derek’s pack so that Stiles’s dad would know he was okay and he could tell his dad. And Scott. God, he still didn’t know what to tell Scott. Derek was really pushing the whole honesty thing, but Stiles had no idea how that was going to go over with the Beacon Hills pack. He wondered how Malia would take the whole him and Derek together romantically thing. She’d accused him of being gay several times before they were all done and over with. He’d just denied it at the time because it had been so much easier than trying to work in a lesson on human sexuality and sexual orientations while they were fighting and breaking up. Oh well. She’d get over it. 

They rolled into Beacon Hills after dark just as Derek had wanted, which pleased his alpha to no end. 

“Stop crowing over there,” Stiles teased. Derek just smiled over at him and turned the radio up. Stiles was going to get really sick of 80s pop music. He could see that already. Derek was lucky he was secretly so adorable. 

“We going to your dad’s place first, I’m assuming?”

“Yep. Take me to my leader.” Stiles smiled. It felt good to be back in Beacon Hills. It didn’t feel any safer than northern California--Stiles HAD almost died on multiple occasions here---but it felt good. His dad was close. Scott was close. Derek was back where he belonged, too, sitting next to Stiles and singing along with Cyndi Lauper for too much of the ride across California. He had successfully resisted the urge to grab Derek’s cell phone and record the occasion for YouTube. 

“He’s right here, baby,” Derek shot back. Stiles was going to have to get used to a Derek who joked back and didn’t just growl and turn away. He figured he’d enjoy getting used to that. He laid a hand on Derek’s knee and settled back, enjoying the familiarity he got to have in that moment. 

They pulled up in front of his dad’s house, which was lit up like, well, like Christmas. Stiles wondered if they were going to stay through the holiday. He didn’t see why they shouldn’t. Dad was the only blood family Stiles had and Cora was…Well, Stiles didn’t know where she was, but if she was still close to Derek, she was probably close enough to join them in Beacon Hills. It was safe for her there now. Maybe they could even head down to the asylum and taunt Peter some. That could be fun. He always enjoyed taunting Peter from a safe distance, that fucker. He looked over at Derek, who was smirking at Stiles like he had some sort of precognitive abilities that let him know what Stiles was thinking. Stiles sniffed the air. He didn’t smell anything. He stared expectantly.

“You smell smug” was the only explanation Derek offered. Stiles huffed, trying for offended but ending up with amused. He countered that Derek had no idea what was going on in his brain and Derek laughed. “I’ve always been able to read you, babe. Always. From that first moment in the woods when you and Scott were looking for his ridiculous inhaler.”

“Oh, come on,” Stiles whined. “There’s no way you could read me then. I was a spastic sophomore who didn’t have a clue about anything--”

“And I knew that. I also knew that you were out there for Scott, that you were more curious than you should be, and that you were going to be trouble for me. You’d already figured out the wolf thing for Scott by then, hadn’t you?”

“Well, yes, but he didn’t believe me.”

“Of course he didn’t, but I knew you had. You’re brilliant--I told you. I could smell it on you.”

“You can’t smell brilliance!” Stiles rolled his eyes. There was no way wolves could smell how smart someone was. They looked to Scott for leadership and decisions all the time. They bantered some and then Stiles pulled in close for a kiss, dreading the idea of facing his dad. He was going to be so disappointed with everything.

Finally he sighed. “We should go in. We’ve been sitting out here long enough that Dad’s gonna come out here with his gun cocked soon.”

“Insert cocked gun euphemism here,” Derek joked, his smile turning lascivious. Stiles growled and licked at the corner of Derek’s mouth before letting go of his alpha and turning toward his door, gathering himself and getting out. 

The front door opened as he came around the car, his dad silhouetted against the bright light in the doorway with his hips cocked slightly and one hand on a hip. The sheriff’s voice rang out into the night. “If you don’t get up here right now, Stiles, I’m going to shoot Derek and not feel bad about it.”

Dad joked about shooting people pretty often, but he never joked about his dislike of one Derek Hale so Stiles hustled up the front steps and into his dad’s waiting arms, the relief rolling off his dad a palpable thing. Stiles almost couldn’t breathe, the stench of relief was so strong. He hugged his dad back as tightly as he dared what with the whole new werewolf super-strength thing and whispered that he was alright. His dad nodded against his shoulder and into his neck; Stiles could feel the moisture there. Please, god, don’t let his dad cry where he could see him. If he saw his dad cry he would cry and then everyone would be crying and that would be another fine Stilinski mess they’d gotten themselves into. He didn’t want to deal with another fine Stilinski mess. He couldn’t do it on top of the whole torture mess and the werewolf moon changing thing and the fact that he was in a romantic relationship with his new alpha who used to be his sort of, kind of frenemy and he was going to have to deal with telling his best friend that he wouldn’t accept him as his supreme overlord and his life was just a mess and goddamn it, he was supposed to be celebrating Stanford right now!

Stiles pulled back just a little bit, letting his dad know that breaking apart was going to happen and he was going to have to pull himself together now. His dad pulled himself together before separating completely from Stiles because he was a champ like that and he really did love Stiles. Everybody went back into the house, where it was entirely too warm for him. How did all the others handle this? He was going to die from heat stroke at this rate. He pulled on the collar of his hoodie and prayed he wasn’t going to start sweating profusely. None of the other wolves had an excessive sweat issue, but it would be just his luck that he would develop one. He followed his dad into the living room; his dad stopped suddenly and whirled around, grabbing him by the biceps and looking him up and down.

“You look okay. Are you okay? Where have you been? You were _not_ in Mexico. I looked. Are you hurt? Do I have to kill anyone? Where’s Scott?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the last question. That would be a question his dad would worry about. “What do you mean _where’s Scott_? Last Derek knew, he was right here in Beacon Hills, where he belonged. Did something happen? What’s going on? Is something going on? It’s Christmas. There had better not be any trouble on Christmas.” He had no problem believing there was trouble brewing around Christmas. Beacon Hills couldn’t have nice things. Scott probably went looking for trouble. Scott didn’t want nice things.

“Of course Scott’s here in Beacon Hills. Why would Scott be in another place? I was asking why Scott wasn’t here with you right now. It’s a little unusual. Is he mopping up whatever happened to you?”

Stiles sucked on his teeth so he didn’t actually growl. After everything that happened, everything he’d JUST went through, his dad still assumed that Scott took care of him like he couldn’t take care of himself. He’d left the damn city successfully and his dad still believed he couldn’t take care of himself. Derek growled for him. Derek was a good alpha, a good boyfriend. Stiles approved. Stiles didn’t need Scott to mop up after him. Even when he had been human, he hadn’t needed Scott to clean anything up. He was normally the one to clean up after Scott because Scott was incapable of things like forethought, planning, and subtlety. He’d kind of thought that him going off to Berkley and Scott staying in Beacon Hills would finally make Dad more proud of him, but apparently not. He’d gotten into Stanford, figured out how to pay for most of it, and apparently Dad still thought of Scott first. Stiles’s shoulders slumped against his will. Derek moved to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in close. He rested his head against his Wolf’s shoulder.

“No, he is not mopping up whatever happened to me. He doesn’t know what happened to me just like you didn’t know what happened to me. He’s still here and I was not here. That sort of suggests he wasn’t a part of making sure I was okay—which I wasn’t, by the way. Not by a long shot. I was so far away from okay it was like okay had never existed. Okay was a fairy tale I may have heard once upon a time, and Scott was here pissing on his territory and you were in Mexico and you STILL expect SCOTT to fix everything.” He was so sick and tired of his dad always being prouder and thinking more highly of Scott than he did of Stiles. He shouldn’t have laid all that on his dad like that, but he’d been hot, both physically and mentally, and he’d let his temper and discomfort get the better of him. He wrinkled his nose and burrowed his head further against Derek’s shoulder, refusing to look at his dad. Derek kissed his forehead and whispered that it was okay. When he finally got over his little foray into actually saying what he was thinking, he looked at his father, who was frowning. His forehead wrinkled in confusion and worry.

“What happened, Stiles? I don’t understand. You look okay, but you weren’t okay? Where were you? Time for honest answers again, son.” His dad sat down on the couch, gesturing to the spot next to him. Apparently they were going to be Stilinskis and completely ignore that whole part of his outburst about his dad and Scott. He could go with that.

Derek let go of Stiles and took a seat on one of the chairs next to the couch. Stiles stood there for a moment looking between his dad and his alpha before turning and sitting on Derek’s lap. He needed comfort if he was going to do this, and it turned out that Derek did comfort really well. Derek wrapped both arms around him and kissed his cheek lightly. His dad sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing at them with one hand. “Please explain what is going on.”

“I was kidnapped by some crazy terrorist hunter group and tortured for a little under a month. That’s what happened. They held me in a storage unit that was not temperature regulated. They stripped me almost naked. They cut me. They burned me. They drowned me. They drugged me. They hit me. They smashed me. They waterboarded me. They…It wasn’t fun.” A person should never know what their insides looked like. They shouldn’t know the difference between saline and blood against their skin. They shouldn’t worry or wonder about whether or not--

Derek grabbed both his hands with one of his, steadying them. Stiles hadn’t even realized they’d been shaking. Slight tremors raced through his body whenever he thought of what they’d done to him, and he’d become so used to the course and crash of adrenaline that he hadn’t even noticed. He continued with his answer. “Derek showed up a few days ago and got me out of there. I was burned and bleeding and broken and dying, but he got me out of there. He saved me. He…”

Derek nuzzled against Stiles’s neck, his nose gently grazing against his skin. Stiles could smell their scents lingering and mixing as he did it. His heartbeat slowed to a more normal pace, his pulse wending at a more leisurely flow. He breathed deeply for a few seconds, allowing Derek’s touch and scent to calm him. He hadn’t even known it was possible for someone to become someone else’s happy place in the course of a few days, but Derek was definitely his. His alpha’s scent on him was as necessary as oxygen. His father glared at them and Stiles took a deep breath and then wrapped up his tale as briefly as possible. 

“I’m alright now because I came a hair’s breadth from dying in Derek’s car and he bit me to keep me in this mortal coil. It still took me almost a week to heal, even with the Wolf super-healing in effect. We drove through several states, and here we are. This is the first place we came back to. I _thought_ you’d appreciate that.” He knew the last statement wasn’t fair, but his pride was still stinging from his dad’s implication that Stiles needed Scott to take care of things for him.

His dad slumped forward, his chin falling against his chest and his elbows resting on his knees. He looked defeated. He looked defeated. Stiles had been the one kidnapped. Stiles had been the one tortured for weeks. Stiles had been the one turned into a werewolf. Stiles was the one now confronted with telling those he loved that he’d been turned. Still, his _dad_ was the one looking all defeated. What WAS that?! Derek’s arms tightened around him and his nuzzling increased. Derek kissed at his neck, small whines escaping as he nuzzled and kissed. Stiles needed to do a better job remembering that his emotions affected others now.

“It’s okay, Der,” Stiles whispered. “I’m okay.” Derek rubbed his palms against Stiles’s thighs, rubbing his cheek along the side of Stiles’s neck and jaw in long sweeps. Stiles knew Derek was marking him to calm him, but the situation was about to turn very pornographic very quickly if Derek kept this up, and they were in front of his dad. He rested his hands on Derek’s to still them as he turned his head toward Derek’s and murmured quietly enough that he knew his dad wouldn’t hear that they should probably pick that back up later. Derek smiled and kissed his cheek lightly, leaning back into the chair and placing his hands on Stiles’s hips because apparently the fact that Stiles was physically in his lap was not enough contact for him.

Stiles focused back on the man in front of him. “Dad, I’m okay. Everything’s fine now. Really, the bite was probably a good thing—it’s going to take a lot more to hurt me now, and I’m going to have Derek looking after me so you really don’t have to worry anymore. If you thought Scott could take care of me, you haven’t seen anything. Derek’s amazing with the care and protection thing. I haven’t even been in his pack very long and I already feel safer. Seriously--”

His dad cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Stiles, stop. That’s not actually helping. You’re saying that you’re one of them now?” The disappointment was evident in his dad’s voice.

Stiles sighed. It’s not like being bitten was something he’d planned. He was kind of hoping that his dad would be more pleased that he was alive and less focused on the Wolf thing. “I’m one of them now. I didn’t plan it and I didn’t ask for it, but it is what it is and it kept me alive and able to move around and stay conscious, so I’ll gladly take it. I’m going to be one of them for the rest of my life, which will actually be much longer now that I’m a Wolf. This is not necessarily a bad thing, Dad. I’m stronger and faster. I can run from danger that much more quickly. I can fight my way to freedom with fewer injuries. You don’t have to worry about me as much anymore.”

His dad blinked at him. “You’re one of them. This means you’re gonna be with Scott, right? You’ll be coming back to Beacon Hills? What about Stanford? What about your plans?”

Stiles blinked at his dad, trying to catch up to where he was headed with his line of questioning. Stiles could usually keep ahead of him and confuse his way out of trouble, but his dad was focusing on all sorts of things Stiles didn’t think he would. What had he meant by “with Scott”?

“With Scott in what way?” He leaned back against Derek’s chest and wrapped his Wolf’s arms tight around his waist.

His dad rubbed his temples like he could actually rub through the skin if he tried hard enough. “AND you’re gay, apparently. Are you gay? In tenth grade we’d sort of talked about the fact that you were not gay. Were you gay then? Was Malia your beard?” He didn’t sound happy about any of it.

Stiles facepalmed, rubbing his forehead with the same vehemence his dad was attacking his own temples with. This was not going at all as planned. “No, Dad, I’m not gay. A person can like both girls AND boys. That’s allowed. I don’t normally like boys, so I didn’t really feel like going through all this with you, but when Derek and I decided to give it another go--”

His dad’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing. “Another go?”

 _Shit_. “So, ‘another go’ isn’t quite the right way to put that. We sort of addressed the idea of maybe trying something before, but--”

“When you were in high school? While you were clearly underage?” Dad turned his glare on Derek, and that glare was not a good thing. That glare was a dare for Derek to say or do something, and if there was one thing Derek Hale could be counted on to do, it was rise to a dare. And Stiles had thought the conversation with Scott was going to be the tough one.

Derek sat up, holding Stiles firmly against him while he did it. “Yes, Sheriff. We talked about dating and I kissed him on the mouth once when he was in high school. That isn’t against any laws in the United States. He was underage, which made anything sexual illegal, but since we didn’t engage in any sexual acts then, kissing him and talking about dating was perfectly fine from the position you seem to want to approach this from.” He could feel the growl and the irritation rolling off Derek. He didn’t have to look back to know that scowl he’d almost feared in high school took over Derek’s face.

Stiles leaned against him, nuzzling his cheek against Derek’s in an attempt to keep him calm. His dad held his glare at Stiles’s new alpha. For the second time that night, Stiles found himself caught between one figure of authority and another. He was going to have to set some ground rules with Derek about exactly what kind of hierarchy he was supposed to follow when they were at home. Derek had said they were just partners outside of pack business, but Stiles could feel the alpha pull he was giving off because he’d been challenged. The beta in him now wanted to respond accordingly. He rose to Derek’s defense. “Dad, we didn’t do anything back then. I promise. I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t want to, but Derek didn’t, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Stiles--” Derek began. Stiles cut him off with a quiet “we’ll talk about it later.” 

“But you’re together like that now,” his dad pressed. He had no idea why his father was focusing on things like who Stiles was dating and why Scott wasn’t here after he’d just told him his son had been tortured for _weeks_. Stiles grabbed one of Derek’s hands. “Yeah, we’re together like that now. Derek’s my boyfriend as well as my alpha. We’re going to try this and see what happens. I’d really like you to be okay with that, but we’re going to do it whether you’re okay with it or not.”

His dad arched an eyebrow. “I’m helping you financially with Stanford, I will remind you.”

Derek jutted his chin out, defiance written all over his face. “I can do that if it’s going to be an issue for you.”

His dad sighed like someone had just told him it was cancer. “I’m really not getting a choice in this, am I?”

Stiles met his father’s eyes, still not understanding why they were worried about Stiles’s love life after all this. “No. Now, can we focus on things that actually matter in this moment?”

“Fine, then. I’m not thrilled with this, and it’s not because he’s a guy, so don’t even start in on that, Stiles. You know I’m more open than that. He’s too old for you and trouble follows him—the kind of trouble you don’t need. He’s got no career aspects and a violent streak, and he doesn’t deserve you. If he ever hurts you, I’ll put him down myself.” The sheriff’s eyes never left Stiles. He glared back. “Again, Dad, my love life is NOT what we’re here to discuss. Let’s focus on more important things.”

Derek huffed. “I will never hurt him. Ever. It doesn’t matter if we work out romantically or not. He’s my beta, an important part of my pack. Pack values pack. Pack looks out for pack. Pack takes care of pack. That’s what pack is for, which you’d know if Scott wasn’t a shitty alpha. Stiles is generous and loyal and brave and amazing and I recognize that in him. Why don’t you? He was always more than capable of just about anything. I knew to trust him, even before he was officially pack. What about you, Sheriff? When will you start trusting your own son? You seem awfully concerned with me hurting him. Check your own record. Check Scott’s. Look into the hunters who hurt him before you look to old vendettas you hold.” Derek was practically spitting by the time he’d hissed out the last of his diatribe. Stiles had to diffuse this before they ended up with a wrestling match or something. His dad didn’t even seem to care that he’d been kidnapped or tortured! Scott was supposed to be the difficult one. His dad was supposed to be disappointed and then willing to hide his issues for the sake of not confronting their emotional states, just like they’d always done!

“Okay,” Stiles cut in. “Okay, look: You’re both the most important guys in my life. It’s official. I love you both, but while you’re hissing and spitting at each other I’m still getting used to the whole werewolf thing AND have to deal with hunters who have a thing for electricity and fire.”

Derek pouted behind him. Stiles knew he was pouting because he could smell the disappointment and discontent rolling off him. “Derek, baby, I know you’re trying to help, but right now I need to know if my dad is going to let me stay around. I need to know if it’s just the two of us working to out the splinter cell or if we have the backup and resources of the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department.”

“I’ll behave if he will,” Derek challenged. Stiles rolled his eyes, but smiled back at his alpha. New Derek really was being so amazing. Old Derek would have growled and thrown things and stormed off. He looked at his dad, who was staring at the two of them as if he’d never seen either of them before. Sadly, Stiles knew exactly what that looked like because he’d seen it before. “Ball’s in your court, Dad. How are we going to do this?”

His dad shrugged. “I’m not willing to cut you out of my life for anything, Stiles—especially not something beyond your control like a Wolf bite or who you fall for. I’m not going to hide that I’m not happy, but I will always support my son. Tell me about these kidnappers.”

They talked about Stiles’s little trip to Tortureland and what Derek knew about the situation, though he left out the fact that the thing stolen was apparently some sort of werewolf spiritual hoodoo thing. Dad suggested pulling Chris Argent in on it, which was a good idea. Stiles decided they would visit the Argent house the next day even though Derek was less than enthusiastic. Derek was just going to have to get used to the fact that Stiles was willing to use every resource available to him. 

After a dinner of pizza and beer because his dad couldn’t cook to save his life and didn’t actually know they were coming, apparently, Dad asked if they were going to head over and talk to Scott that evening. He still sounded disappointed. Stiles wondered for the four millionth time how badly his dad wished that Scott had been his son.

Stiles looked at Derek, hoping that Derek would come up with some sort of reason they couldn’t. He doubted the Wolf would since Derek had been the one pushing the whole honesty thing, which still blew his mind given the Derek Hale Stiles had first met in Beacon Hills all those years ago over Scott’s missing inhaler, but he could hope, so hope he did. Derek returned his stare, not offering any help at all.

Stiles shrugged. “I suppose we are.” Derek smiled at him; Stiles stuck his tongue out in return. He checked the time on Derek’s cell phone since he didn’t have another one of his own yet. It was 9:30 pm already. He wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to just go to Scott’s tomorrow morning and then head to the Argent house directly from there. It was getting late and he’d hate to disturb the McCall residence. What if Scott had work the next morning? He’d hate to keep him up. Scott would need his sleep tonight. He was a complete bitch without his requisite amount of sleep. A bitchy Scott would not be amenable to Stiles being Derek’s beta in any way, shape, or form. He suggested all this to the room and for the first time in the history of ever, Derek and his dad teamed up—against him, those bastards. 

“Stiles, if you go now you can just get it over with,” his dad offered.

“I’ll be right there with you, baby. Let’s just do it now,” Derek suggested.

“Just think of how much better you’ll sleep not worrying about what Scott will say,” Dad reminded him. Derek nodded. “Think of how much more peaceful you’ll feel once Scott knows what is going on, how much better things will be with Scott on your side for sure.”

Damn it. They were both right. Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand. “Don’t let me go, Der.”

Derek flashed a million-watt grin. “I’ve got you, baby. Always.”

The trip to Scott’s house seemed to take about half the time it normally took. Stiles had watched the speedometer and Derek hadn’t sped through town or anything, so he didn’t know how it happened. It had to be some sort of weird alpha time warp thing. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and cast a glance out the window as Derek parked along the curb. His nose picked that time to stuff up slightly, so he sniffed and snuffled for a moment before holding his breath and setting his shoulders. He could do this. Scott couldn’t be any harder to tackle than his dad had proved to be. He could do it.

~~~

Scott was so much harder to tackle than his dad was. Jesus Christ, Scott was impossible to tackle, and Stiles wanted to literally physically tackle him at this point if he was being honest. Scott had thrown his arms around Stiles when he’d first seen him, bear hugging him. He hunched away, but Scott held him fast. Scott smelled good—not Derek good, but good, sort of like candy corn and Thanksgiving turkey. He would never have thought a werewolf would smell like Thanksgiving, not even Scott. It was relaxing in a way, nothing like the situation with hallucination Scott in that torture chamber.

Scott had started sniffing around him while he still had him trapped in that bear hug. Stiles froze. He could _hear_ Scott’s nostrils flaring, so he decided on a preemptive strike. “That’s why I’m here, Scott. Chill. I’ll explain.”

“Dude, you smell like wet dog. Did you get bitten? Holy shit! Do I have to kill an asshole? I will. Just tell me where they are. I’ll take them out. Nobody fucks with my Stiles--”

Derek had growled at that point because of course Derek would growl. God forbid anything that evening go easily for Stiles. “He’s not _your_ Stiles.” Derek’s teeth were gritted. He’d enunciated and emoted all that through gritted teeth and a tsunami wave of rage. Stiles was impressed that he was still able to form words through all that anger and jealousy. He had reached down and squeezed Derek’s hand. For once in his life, Scott had apparently been paying attention because fuck Stiles’s luck.

Scott snarled back. A tremor ran down Stiles’s left arm. “What the hell, Stiles? You don’t have to make him feel better. What are you even thinking? And what’s with the hand holding? That’s just weird. Don’t be weird, dude. Also, of course you’re mine. I mean, I know I didn’t bite you, but there is no way that you can be expected to pack up with some random person. You were practically a member of my pack before college, anyway, so consider yourself officially in--”

“He’s. Not. Yours.” Derek’s voice was low, barely audible. He’d managed to rumble so much that Stiles was surprised to find the earth NOT shaking. Every breath Derek took was a growl. Stiles had to back up into his arms to keep him from physically attacking Scott. His breathing was getting harsher and shakier. The tremors down his left arm increased.

“I’m not his, baby. It’s okay. I’m yours.” Stiles kept his voice soft and submissive, hoping for the best. “Please calm down now. Remember that thing about not hurting friends.”

Derek snarled behind him, his growl increasing in both volume and vibration, and Scott’s eyes narrowed. Stiles had never been a religious person, but he sent up a prayer right then. He did not need to try to break Derek and Scott apart. Scott held a hand out to him. “Stiles, what’s going on here? You belong with me, in my pack. You know that. In high school we packed up.” Stiles backed away from that hand. His fingers tingled and his chest tightened. A ringing picked up in his head.

Derek had barked at that point. Stiles hadn’t ever heard any of them bark. It sounded like a weird cross between a growl and a sort of yip. “What happened to ‘practically a member,’ Scott? Practically a member isn’t the same thing as packing up, but that’s what you said, and that’s probably closer to the truth. You don’t get to take advantage of him anymore. He’s MY pack. He’s not yours. He’s _mine. Mine_.” Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind. Stiles had really meant to be more annoyed with the amount of possession and jealousy Derek was feeling at that moment, but he secretly enjoyed it—well, not so secretly, given that he was surrounded by werewolves who could smell his emotions—and fuck his life, Scott managed to actually pick up on all the smells and emotions, too. Scott had picked a hell of a night to become a real werewolf.

“Wait, you’re packing up with _HIM_?!” Scott sounded offended. He threw his hands up and Stiles’s head felt a bit light and empty, like a helium balloon. A violent tremor quaked through his body. He shrank into himself, into Derek’s body behind him. It was at that moment that Stiles realized this was not going to end well. Derek’s arms unwrapped themselves, letting go of Stiles. He almost fell backward. Stiles tried to intervene before bloodshed got involved, but he was feeling jittery and light headed. His voice was a bit croaky and his breaths heaved through most of the syllables, but he managed an intervention. “Yes, I’ve packed with Derek. He’s my alpha, Scott. He was the one who bit me. It was the only way to save my life, and--”

“You don’t have to be his beta just because he bit you. You don’t owe him anything. He left, remember? He didn’t _want_ you.” Scott’s arms flailed through the air, moving with every word. White spots invaded his vision.

That had been it. Derek had leapt straight for Scott’s throat and it had devolved into an alpha cage match fit for pay per view. The helium head feeling increased with every swipe he watched Scott take at his alpha. Stiles found himself alternating between wanting to throw up and doubling over in phantom pain, new pain blossoming over remembered wounds as Scott beat on someone else. And there was bloodshed. There was blood _spatter_. Melissa was going to kill all of them when she got home from work. Stiles was going to have to move to Europe and change his name to Franz to escape her wrath. He wondered how Derek felt about Germany. Their economy was super strong, and they had so many castles. They could spend their weekends touristing together.

He heard a growl and then a yelp, but he couldn’t get himself upright enough to take in what happened. All he could see and feel was Hallucination Scott. Hallucination Scott swiped and flayed. Hallucination Scott bit and hit and kicked.

“Submit, Scott. I _will_ keep going if you don’t.” Derek’s voice hacked through the torture fog. Stiles concentrated and willed the red haze behind his eyes down enough to take in the scene in front of him.

Scott lay on the ground, bloody and bitten to hell. Slashes and gashes dotted his clothing and dug into his skin, blood still seeping from them because the wounds had been inflicted by another alpha. His right leg was bent at an odd angle and several of his fingers pointed in the wrong direction. Derek kneeled over him, resting his weight against Scott’s torso. One hand held Scott’s neck down, the claws of that hand digging lightly into Scott’s neck. The claws of his other hand were buried in Scott’s left shoulder, holding him bodily against the wooden floor of the porch. Stiles’s foot throbbed and his side burned. The red haze crept back in.

“Fuck off,” Scott spit at Derek. That about summed up the whole of Stiles’s first night back in Beacon Hills. “Stiles has always been my best friend. He’s always been there with me. You don’t get him. He’s mine.”

Derek laughed. “You’re an idiot, McCall. I already have him. Admit that he’s mine.”

Scott wriggled against Derek’s hold, blood gushing out of the punctures around Derek’s claws. Phantom claws pierced Stiles’s abdomen, wriggling around. He shivered, icy tendrils wreathing through his bloodstream. Derek jerked his head up at Stiles. Scott wiggled again, not acknowledging anything outside his fight. Sweat dripped in fat droplets down the side of Stiles’s face. One of Derek’s claws slipped into the skin of Scott’s neck. Phantom razorlike claws slashed across Stiles’s chest. He gasped and grabbed at his chest, falling back with the force of the phantom slash. The stairs met his fall and he tumbled down all four of them and lay on the sidewalk, even more breathless than he had been. 

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice called to him. He just stared up at the sky, hating everything about his life. He could feel the broken bits of his left foot, the deep punctures in his abdomen, the gashes across his chest and arms. This shouldn’t be happening. Did they drug him again? Where was he? He’d thought he was at Scott’s. It had felt like he’d been at Scott’s. Derek had gotten him out of the torture chamber, hadn’t he? He’d thought he had, but maybe he was laying on the concrete floor back there. He could feel the cold hard underneath him. If Derek had gotten him out, he wouldn’t feel all the wounds. He wouldn’t have all those wounds. He rolled onto his side and curled into the fetal position, wrapping up around the deep punctures in his torso. 

“Baby, baby no. You’re okay. Come back.” Derek’s voice broke through the pain and the blood. Hands rested on his forearm. He was rolled onto his back. The sky was overhead again. A draft prickled over his skin, little bumps raising and covering his exposed flesh. His flesh was not nearly as exposed as it had been in the storage unit. He was dressed.

Someone lifted his upper body off the ground, pulling him back against warm skin. “Stiles. Stiles, listen to me. Come on; come back. I need you back with me right now. You’re okay. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Stiles closed his eyes and listened to Derek’s voice as it told him repeatedly that he was safe over the next minute or so. He decided to believe the voice and opened his eyes, looking up into Derek Hale’s worried blue eyes. Derek smiled down at him. “There you are. There’s my beautiful boy. Welcome back, sweetheart.”

He reached up to touch Derek’s cheek. It was solid. It was real. He was in Derek’s arms on the ground in southern California. He was Derek’s beta. He was okay. He crashed, the adrenaline leaving his system in a sudden rush before he’d even realized it was there. At this rate, he was going to fight or flight himself to death. He shook and trembled in his Wolf’s arms, suddenly too hot and then suddenly too cold as his chemical levels normalized. He curled as much as he could into Derek as he quaked through the crash.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with Stiles? Is he having a seizure?” Scott’s voice sounded panicked. The smell of fear roiled over Stiles, puncturing his personal bubble of comfort. The fear in the air mixed with the last remnants of his own fear and sent more tremors racing through his skin.

Derek kissed the side of his head, offering shushing noises to help calm him. “Just stay back, Scott. Your panic is not helping him at the moment.” 

“But what’s wrong with him? Does he need something? What are we supposed to do? I don’t remember if the school nurses turned Erica on her side or not during one of her seizures!”

Derek clenched his jaw. Stiles could see that from his reclined position. “We’re doing what we can right now, Scott. He’s not having a seizure. This is why we came to see you and talk to you—so we could avoid something like this.”

“But what happened?” The whine worked itself into Scott’s voice. That whine tended to set Stiles’s teeth on edge, but at this point he was just glad that he had been able to hear Scott’s whine. He would have missed it, he realized. Scott kept whining for an explanation.

When his teeth stopped grinding and chattering he offered Scott his explanation. “They took me, Scott. They took me and they did horrible things to me, and they kept me and did horrible things to me, and Derek was my Wolf in shining armor and he saved me and he didn’t let me die of horrible things. It was horrible, dude.” He felt a bit floaty, maybe a little woozy. He was going to need another shot of fight or flight to get home. “I’m so tired, Der. Will you carry me home?”

Derek leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I will carry you anywhere you want, baby. I will always carry you anywhere you want.”

“Wait, Stiles was taken? What?! Mr. Stilinski said he’d gone AWOL--”

Derek growled. “For fuck’s sake, Scott. Can you not accuse your best friend of being flighty to a fault in front of him while he’s in the process of recovering from a PTSD flashback?”

Scott’s face appeared in front of Stiles. “Dude, who kidnapped you? You tell us, and Derek and I will end them. We’ve got you, man. It’s all good. Also, pet names are weird between alphas and betas. Stop being broken.”

Stiles smiled at Scott. Stiles watched Derek roll his eyes. Scott meant well. He was just an overgrown puppy who was given too much power for his own good. “I don’t know who took me, Scott. They didn’t introduce themselves.”

“They’re hunters,” Derek offered. “We’re going to go see Argent tomorrow, even though he’s not going to know anything and he’s going to be a sarcastic, snarky little shit about it and find some way of blaming us for all of this.”

Scott grimaced at Derek. His grimace still looked more ridiculous than menacing. His everything really looked more ridiculous than menacing, but he was Stiles’s best friend so he didn’t mention that.

“Chris has helped us a lot in the last few years. He’s a valuable ally, you know. You just always hated him.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and Derek huffed. “His sister killed most of my _family_. Of course he’s not on my Christmas card list.”

Stiles was too woozy to stop himself from inquiring about whether or not Derek actually had a Christmas card list. Derek smiled down at him, those teeth shining, and promised he’d show Stiles later. He felt all swoopy at the promise. Derek trusted him enough to show him his Christmas card list. That was awesome. Maybe he’d even be on it now, which was actually kind of silly once he thought about it because he seriously doubted they’d be away from each other long enough to worry about sending cards to one another. More likely he was going to have to sign the Christmas cards with Derek. He hated signing cards. It’s always the same damn thing over and over again on every card, unless you were trying to personalize one, which meant that you’d have to personalize all of them just to be fair because honestly, it was inevitable that two card recipients were going to know each other and with his luck they would compare cards and one would be all impersonal and the other would like confess his undying Christmas love to the recipient and promise them his first born or something. “Derek, we don’t have to promise our first born to random Christmas card people, do we? Because you’d be an awesome dad and I don’t want to give our first born away.”

Derek laughed and kissed the side of his head again. “I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours, but we can keep our first born.”

“Wait, WHAT?!” Scott sounded panicked again. “Why are you talking about children? Do you plan on biting them into your pack? Why would you do that, Derek?! They’re CHILDREN!!! What is wrong with you? That is seriously messed up, dude. Also, how the fuck can you even bite people? How did you get to be alpha again? What the fuck is actually happening?!”

Stiles admitted to being all swoopy and woozy and tired from his last little bout with adrenaline, but Scott was making no sense…again. How did they get to Derek sharing the bite with little kids? He wouldn’t do that with his whole “gift” line of thinking. Scott had gone off and completely stopped thinking on him again and he didn’t have the wherewithal to think for both of them like he usually did just yet. He decided to go with the obvious “what the hell, Scott” to save them all the trouble.

“You were talking about first born, man! Like, I have people in my pack, but I’m not going to make them have kids, and I’m certainly not going to bite kids in for them to raise. That’s just completely rude.”

He still didn’t understand why Scott was worried about kids in packs, and he wasn’t really sure why his first born would be a pack thing. He got that it takes a village and pack supports pack, but his family would still be his family…He thought.

Scott waved an arm around to punctuate his point. Stiles flinched and hunkered down. He didn’t need to feel those claws again. Derek intervened from behind him. “Scott, lower the arms. Your friend needs calm right now. Jesus fuck…”

His eyes closed against his will and the surf in his head quieted halfway through Derek’s defense.

He opened his eyes again to find himself in his childhood bed sans his Star Wars sheets. He missed those sheets. He wanted those sheets right now. He felt very warm, though, and a heartbeat that wasn’t his own beat against his cheek, calming the movement of everything inside him. He let out a sigh and settled into that heartbeat. “Scott said we couldn’t have kids.”

The chest under his cheek rumbled just a bit. “No, Scott said I couldn’t bite kids because he’s still under the mistaken belief that he’s always right and always in charge. You passed out on me again, you know.”

That’s what had happened, then. He knew his body hadn’t been able to decide if the panic should go or stay, and Scott apparently spent a great deal of time throwing his hands around when he was upset. Stiles had never noticed that before, but there it was. “They drugged me, you know.”

Derek breathed out a little _hmm_.

“I don’t know what the drug was--I was passed out when they actually drugged me--but it brought on really, really realistic hallucinations. At least, I think they were hallucinations. I’m still not sure, but Scott seemed REALLY surprised to hear that I was kidnapped so I think they were hallucinations, but it would be just like Scott to deny any wrongdoing to the point that he actually blocks it out of his mind so I just can’t actually be sure--”

One of Derek’s hands wound itself into Stiles’s hair. “Stiles, you’re spiraling into thoughts that I don’t understand again. They drugged you into hallucinations.”

He sniffed. Of course he would spiral. Look, they were big thoughts about big things, okay? He couldn’t even sort everything out inside his head. He had no idea how he could sort things out for someone who wasn’t there to understand. “They drugged me and gave me a hallucination of Scott. When I saw him, I cried in relief. He kept asking where you were, which was a little strange but everything was so horrible I just sort of went with it. Maybe Scott was just seriously worried about me, you know? I didn’t know. When I kept telling him that I didn’t know the first thing about where you were, he shook his head and said he’d have to hurt me, then. It didn’t make sense, but he’d turned against me before because I hadn’t acted the way he wanted me to, so I just didn’t know. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not real, and I hadn’t figured out then that they’d drugged me. Scott slashed at me and punctured me with his claws and apologized for having to do it the entire time. It seemed like something Scott would do, you know? Apologize while he’s hurting someone? He flayed skin from my body and he pierced until I bled profusely and he slashed at my chest and my legs and my sides. I passed out after a while and then when I woke up he was gone. I’d been SO sure it was him. Then we went to see him for real here, and…I don’t know. It was like I was back there and Hallucination Scott was digging into me and blaming me for it again. I didn’t know, I mean, it seemed that passing out would be easier than the building freak out that was going to explode from me. Thank you for catching me.”

The hand in Stiles’s hair ruffled through his roots. “You owe me a catch now.” He laid his head down against Derek’s chest, letting the rasp of the fabric rustle against his cheek. He owed Derek several catches at this point, and he really hoped they weren’t going to revert to that whole taking turns saving each other’s asses thing because he really did not need that in his life again. He liked his peace and quiet. 

“How often do you end up like we used to in high school—fighting baddies?”

He felt Derek’s smile as the man’s lips grazed the top of his head. “Not that often, honestly. We intervene when we have to, like with the hunters and the relic, but I’ve become downright boring since moving to northern California. My life is mostly raising and training Wolves in my pack, taking care of our front business, and growing my territory through treaties and alliances. You’d be surprised at just how many hours I have to devote to paperwork these days. It’s a little bit depressing. I miss ripping into things on a regular basis.”

He snorted. “You WOULD miss ripping things apart. Can we keep that sort of thing—fighting and growling and stuff—to a minimum, though? I liked how quiet things were at Berkeley. I got to focus on classes that were actually interesting and make friends that wouldn’t get me killed one day and socialize in normal places like clubs and bars. I kind of want to keep doing that sort of thing once I get my time of the month under control, you know? It would be nice to do that sort of thing with you specifically. I still need the chance to show you that air hockey thing in Colorado was a fluke. I was totally taking pity on you because you looked so pathetic.”

The hand in his hair brushed itself down his back and then back up a few times. “Whatever gets you through, Stiles. Whatever gets you through. How about we just sleep right now? You can finish coming down from the adrenaline rush.”

Derek had apparently completely forgotten that Stiles was now a werewolf and they were at his DAD’s house. There was no sleeping at his dad’s house for Werewolf Stiles. It would end in tragedy and tears and dead fathers because Stiles’s brain hated him. This would not do. He rolled over on top of Derek, nose to nose with his Wolf. “We _could_ sleep. It’s true. OR we could…not sleep. We haven’t not slept yet, you know.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss across Derek’s lips. “I really, really want to not sleep.” His lips brushed against the top of Derek’s jaw line while one of his hands found Derek’s hip. “I really, really want to not sleep with _you_.”

Both of Derek’s hands grabbed at his hips. Before he could register that change Derek had them flipped over so that his back was against the mattress and Derek was looking down at him, a small, gentle smile across his lips. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if they had--”

If his Wolf was going where he thought his Wolf was going, THAT line of questioning was not going to fly. It hadn’t even been something he’d thought of until he was recovering in that hovel in Colorado, but that could have legitimately happened to him. As far as he knew it hadn’t—at least it hadn’t when he’d been conscious and semi-alert—but he realized once he was out that there was a lot of time he hadn’t been fully aware of what was happening. He’d been in so much pain on a minute-by-minute basis that he wouldn’t have known. He still didn’t know, and it made him nervous. Well, it made him downright anxious. The best thing he could possibly do is never think of it again. He’d found over the years that suppression and repression were the keys to a mental stability that kept him mobile. He’d just assumed that Derek got that. He’d gotten it in high school, anyway. Obviously he’d forgotten how important repression really was because here he was opening a potentially terrible door that could lead to potentially terrible things. “Nope.” He popped the _p_ to accentuate his point. “You are not going there. I am not going there. We are not going there. As far as I know it didn’t happen, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. Everything stayed purely above-board torture, and they aren’t going to take my second chance at a first time with the man of my dreams through suppositions and postulations. Now kiss me, Sourwolf.”

Derek obliged his request, lips sealing over lips in a dry, chafing rush of emotion and comfort. He kissed back, parting his lips slightly and inviting a deeper breach. The tongue that met his was lukewarm and swept under and around his own like fine sandpaper. It licked and lapped against his own and scraped itself over his teeth. It curled against the roof of his mouth and smoothed against the back of his bottom row of teeth. It poked and prodded, exploring every cave and every ridge of his mouth before he forced it back and allowed himself the same searching, searing movements in reverse. 

One hand roamed up and down over his hip and waist, rolling and pressing and tickling as it went. He allowed one of his hands to rest on Derek’s bicep, flexing around it and rubbing against it. The other hand skipped to Derek’s ass, groping and stroking as they kissed. Derek pulled away from the kiss, angling his head and lipping and nibbling along his carotid artery. Stiles tilted his head back, offering as much of his neck as he could. His legs fell apart a little more, allowing him to feel a fuller weight as Derek settled down on top of him. Derek’s lips felt like a dry brush fire against the raised skin on his neck. 

When Derek pulled away this time, he raised onto his knees and grabbed the bottom of Stiles’s shirt. Stiles smiled and sat up just a bit, both indulging his Wolf and trying to close the distance between the two of them again. Derek pulled the shirt up and tried to pull it off him, but the damn collar had caught on his chin and was pulling instead of freeing. He laughed and wriggled slightly and had only just registered the _hiss_ and _snick_ he’d heard as the shirt was being tugged off one arm. Derek grabbed at his own t-shirt and whipped it off, tossing it behind them. Stiles brought up one bare arm and one still-covered arm, wrapping them around Derek and pulling him back down. He needed to get back to the kissing and the rasping and the dry brush fires. 

Derek came down with a small _oomph_ , landing fully on him. The weight on top of him was warm and friendly. It was safe and just as surprised as him. It was everything he hadn’t even been aware that he needed in this whole healing process. It was…giggling? Derek was giggling on top of him. Derek giggled. Derek giggled and it was ADORABLE. He could feel those giggles floating through his midsection like fizzy champagne bubbles and foam just after midnight on New Year’s Day. They fuzzed against his tissues and wisped down through his GI tract, racing down his legs and curling against his toenails. They bubbled up his chest and out his mouth in answering giggles of his own. He wrapped his legs around Derek’s torso, holding him bodily in place and reaching his mouth up to lick the side of Derek’s head. The licking wasn’t as weird as he’d thought it might be. Derek tasted like salt and musk against his taste buds. He tasted like a chemical shampoo and the cool of deep earth. He tasted like the wet of cave walls. 

Stiles summoned his new strength and rolled the two of them over, keeping Derek pinned with his knees. He licked a stripe up Derek’s cheek, tasting more of the same. He bent further and lapped a vertical strip across Derek’s clavicle. The deep earth cool and the cave wet were stronger here, the chemical taste gone. He flicked his tongue down Derek’s chest, tasting the salt and the Wolf rolling off the chest hair his mouth met as he went. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and rode the shiver that shot through his Wolf. The rougher skin pebbled in his mouth, leaving ridges and lines in his mouth for his tongue and teeth to explore. He vaguely made out the sound of a sigh, but he wasn’t sure which one of them the sigh belonged to. 

One of Derek’s hands wrapped gently around the back of his head, pushing in and asking for more. He indulged, licking and lapping and nibbling before he moved to the other nipple and continued with the same ministrations. He licked and sucked his way down his alpha’s glorious abdomen, biting and marking each ab muscle as best he could given Derek’s healing abilities. Derek arched into his bites, which he took as permission to continue. He laved the marks, feeling the catch of skin against his tongue. His mouth wandered to Derek’s thick treasure trail, lapping up the trail of coarse hair as if he was grooming his Wolf. He had no idea where all this licking was coming from—he’d always been more about biting and sucking—but he was willing to roll with it based on the look of bliss spread across the features of Derek’s face he noticed every time he looked up at his alpha. 

He arched up so his knees supported him and reached for Derek’s pants. It was time for them to leave this party, and he was going to be the one to kick them out. He tried sucking and licking on more of Derek’s exposed skin while fiddling with the button and zipper, but it was not going well. A growl—an actual growl—slipped through his lips before he knew it was there. Derek chuckled. “Need help there, Baby Wolf?”

Stiles chomped down on the right side of Derek’s torso. The resulting shiver and slight jump brought a grin of victory to his face. “Goddamn it, this is not the first time I’ve done this. You are supposed to lay there and enjoy this whole thing because I’ve done this before.” He growled again.

“You have claws.”

Okay, this sex thing might just work out well for the both of them if Derek was already bringing up claws. He continued wrestling with what must have been the most difficult pant fastenings of all time. “I do have claws. You are correct.”

Derek snorted. “Use them. They are there to be used.”

He planned on using them. They would leave more marks. They would help to let people know that this Wolf was his. “Don’t worry, I will—Wait, like you did with my shirt!” That _was_ really hot. A rumble rose through his chest at the thought of that whole shirt-cutting thing and he immediately needed to do just that. The only problem really was… “Der, I have no idea how to bring them out.”

Derek let out a deep belly laugh that made his ears feel warm and happy. He hadn’t known Derek could laugh like that. His Wolf sat up like it was no trouble at all even with another werewolf on top of him, shifting Stiles off to the side of him and then rolling on top of him. “So, I could teach you how to bring them out right now.” Derek broke off and sucked at his jawline for a couple seconds before continuing. “OR I could fix the problem right now and we can get back to the important things, like working toward me inside of you.” Derek wrapped his mouth around his Adam’s apple and reached one hand down to palm him through his jeans. Wolf claws didn’t seem all that important suddenly. Teaching moments had their times and places, and right now Derek’s hand was in contact with his crotch, which was exactly opposite of the time and place for a teaching moment. 

He growled a deep rumble from the pit of his stomach. “Fix the problem. Pants are stupid and I definitely think the important things you mentioned should be attended to.” He almost whined when Derek’s hand left his pants, but he could feel it brushing against the cotton of his jeans as Derek dispensed of his own jeans like that fly WASN’T the most difficult thing to ever exist on this planet. After that, Derek lifted his hips up and he registered ripping fabric and then cold air on sensitive skin. He looked down to find the top half of his jeans being pulled away, the last of the fabric ripping in half. 

“Damnit, Derek, those were my favorite jeans.”

Derek bent almost in half and licked a straight line up the middle of his torso before following the line of his collar bone with his tongue and biting down on the flesh of his shoulder. Stiles made a sound that sounded like a gasp and a moan at the same time and pushed his shoulder further against Derek’s mouth. “You owe me a new outfit, asshole” was the verbal response he offered.

Derek doubled back over. “I’ll buy you a whole damn wardrobe if it’ll get you to shut up,” he growled in that rumbly voice that did _things_ to Stiles’s stomach and dick. After that it was all over for Stiles, because Derek positively fucked his mouth down onto the erection that he didn’t even register as painful until soft skin and gentle ridges enclosed it. He huffed out an _ungh_ sound and bolted as upright as he could with Derek’s face unexpectedly buried in his lap. Derek pushed him back and continued to fuck him with that beautiful mouth of his. It was hot and wet and loose and tight at the same time. Teeth scraped gently; that sandpaper tongue swirled and twirled as if it wasn’t attached to anything. Stiles reached back and grabbed at the headboard to find some purchase and ground him in this moment, arching and fucking up in time with Derek’s measured movements. Sweat beaded and dripped down his chest and the side of his face. The muscles in his legs trembled. His teeth clenched. He certainly didn’t shut up.

He whined and cursed and made encouraging noises. Whole phrases were hard with a tongue like _that_ on his cock, but he could moan and stutter and whisper Derek’s name, so that was what he did. He lost himself to the heat and the tight and the hums against bare skin, to the fire along his spine and the electricity in his muscles and the hums in his head. He gave over to white light and bells ringing and toes curling. It was ecstasy, and it was right there for him…until Derek’s mouth suddenly popped off his dick with a lewd slurp and they were suddenly eye level with each other.

He huffed. “What the fuck, dude? I was RIGHT THERE. You are not done.”

Derek leered down at him. “Don’t call me dude. No, I’m not done. I just have other plans for you, Baby Wolf.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Is it really gonna be ‘Baby Wolf’ from here on? Seriously? That’s a terrible moniker. Man, you’re making my dick wilt, here.”

Derek climbed off him before grabbing his waist and flipping him over in what had to be microseconds and straddling the back of his legs again. Stiles groaned—his lube was currently back in his dorm room, and he doubted his dad kept sex aids around in case his broken-ass son was coming to see him.

“I can fix that, Baby Wolf. I can bring you back from the brink of _anything_. How rough you like things? I can take you right now, claim this tight little ass as mine forever, but it will break and tear you. I’ll stay gentle; you’ll heal in minutes. I’ll ride you through your pain and break you into so much pleasure, Baby Wolf.” 

He was just going to need for Derek to growl at him forever. It did _things_. And _stuff_. Derek wasn’t done with the words though, apparently. “You won’t know what hit you. I’ll have you begging for it. I’ll have you shaking for more. We’re not humans. You won’t break. I KNOW you’ll love it. We don’t need anything to help this right now, Baby Wolf. Tell me you like it rough.”

He closed his eyes and pictured Scott naked so he didn’t come right then, completely untouched. His dick still twitched in a plea for release, though, rubbing against the grain of the cotton sheet underneath him. He tried to picture Scott and Allison _together_ , which he thought was working until he realized that he was actually rutting against the sheet.

“Tell me, Stiles. Tell me you like it rough. Tell me how much you want me to fuck you till you can’t move, how you want this cock stretching you to the point of breaking. Use all those words you love using so much.”

He couldn’t think of it. He couldn’t imagine Derek inside of him, stretching him too full. He’d come and then it would be over. Derek wasn’t moving above him, not adjusting, not rubbing at his skin, not sliding down to deliver on all those things he said he could give him. The bastard was actually going to make him use words at a time like THIS. “God yes,” he rasped out. “All that. All of it, Derek. Lots of all of it.”

Hands rubbed and massaged his back. “Show me, Baby Wolf. Show me you want it. Come. Come right now.” One hand grabbed his ass and that was it. He twitched and spasmed and liquid fire shot out of him, wetting his skin and the sheets. He groaned and face planted into the pillow. His new alpha had actually _talked_ him into an orgasm. What was he getting himself into?

Derek planted himself between his legs, gripping him by the hips and pulling him up. Stiles was so sated, so pliant that he barely registered the movement. He did register the tip suddenly pressed against his asshole.

“God, Baby Wolf, I’ve wanted this for so long.” Derek’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Stiles waited for him to expand on that thought, but no more words came. Instead, something roughly as big around as a fucking telephone pole, and as rigid as one, shoved past that first ring of muscle and just. Kept. Going. It felt roughly like fire burning at skin and tissue. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could physically hear the ripping. He gasped and arched his back up, instinctually trying to get away from the pain. Derek just followed his movements, shoving all the way in before ripping himself completely out of Stiles. He cried out, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the pain of the motion or the sudden loss of his boyfriend’s cock. 

Derek’s big, warm hands settled on his hips again, holding them loosely. “Too rough, Baby Wolf? You need to stop?”

Stiles squawked indignantly before remembering to gasp in the air he needed. “Don’t you dare,” he wheezed. He made to plant his knees more firmly on the bed, but he didn’t have the chance. Derek’s beautiful big dick slammed back into him, raising him just slightly off the bed. He tried to swing back to meet him, to encourage him, when he felt something higher inside him tear. He groaned at the sensation and pushed against Derek, spreading his legs. This was what he needed. This was all he needed. He needed his friend, his lover, his alpha breaking him into pieces and putting him back together, healing him into a better version of himself. He needed those damn balls behind him smacking against his taint. Fuck the rest of the world. Fuck revenge. Fuck packing up. Fuck college. He just needed this particular cock inside him forever.

It burned. It healed. It tore. It healed. It stung. It healed. 

After ten minutes he could, in fact, no longer discern pain from the intense pleasure spiking through him. By the time his boy finished inside him he’d come three more times. He was a sagging, panting, sticky mess when Derek hefted off him and pulled him against the side of his body. He panted and did his best to pat at his boy’s abdomen to show his pleasure at the whole situation. There had been much, much pleasure in the whole situation. Derek kissed on the top of his head. “Admit it, Baby Wolf: There are some good things about being a Wolf.”

He nodded and quickly licked a bead of sweat off the side of Derek’s chest. “There really is. Shit, there really is. Scott never once clued me in to this particular good thing…That might sound weird, but you’d be surprised at how often we had to dwell on his sex life in every dreary detail.”

Derek laughed and ran his fingers up and down Stiles’s exposed side. “I am truly sorry you had to put up with that. I honestly can’t think of anything worse than listening to Scott McCall talk about having sex.”

He shrugged. “That’s what friends do. They nod at all the right points while their best friends drone on about disgusting subjects. Hey!” He attempted a fist pump, but he was still just a little jello-y so it didn’t exactly work as planned. His hand just sort of flopped in a general direction. Derek followed his hand and glanced at the wall before looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “That’s a wall, Stiles.”

 _That’s a wall, Stiles_. Ugh. Of course it was a wall. He’d fist pumped, damnit. It was obviously a fist pump. “I know that, Mr. Obvious.” He flicked one of Derek’s nipples just to get his point across. “It was a fist pump, okay? I just realized that Scott owes me like 300 hours of listening to me talk about our sex life, and that whole fucking me stupid thing was way more exciting than anything he used to brag about. This is going to be fun. He’s gonna need brain bleach!”

Derek leaned over and kissed the top of his head again. “You should do that, Baby Wolf. Describe to him in detail how I claimed you completely and just how much you are really, really mine. Forever. Not his. I think this is an excellent plan.”

He was going to have to work on this jealousy thing Derek had going. It was highly unbecoming. Also, he wasn’t sure if Scott was still the kind of friend he could talk about his sex life with. He had no idea where they stood since Scott freaked out on him and he passed out in front of Scott’s house. He thought he should be more worried about that than he currently was. Stupid endorphins, making him not care about his friend. He hadn’t thought it was actually possible to fuck someone stupid, but there they were. He’d been fucked stupid. 

“Any time it looks like I’m worrying about something, you’re going to have to completely destroy my brain with mind-blowing sex again. This feels _great_.”

Derek at least attempted to cough back the laugh, which he appreciated. “What were we worrying about?” 

“Scott! Keep up, Alpha Mine. I should be more worried about whether or not we’re still bros for life, but you and that magic dick of yours left me completely incapable of coherent thought. This is the best stress-relieving activity I’ve EVER tried.”

Derek shifted into a more upright sitting position and dragged him over so he was straddled and face to face with Derek. Stiles decided that it was just too much effort to stay like that, so he sagged against his Wolf and rested his head on Derek’s shoulder. Derek ran one hand up and down over his back, and his nerves were still just stimulated enough that it felt AMAZING. 

“Please tell me you’ve had sex before, Baby Wolf. If that was your first time, I’ll…Tell me that wasn’t your first time.”

He laughed. College was all about experimentation, and he did not mind experimenting with people. “Of course I’ve had sex before. I’m a college student. I’ve even had sex with men before. Does that make you all jealous, Big Bad Wolf? You going to go defend my honor?” He kissed Derek’s shoulder. Derek laughed the kind of laugh that caused him to rise and fall with the sound all the way down to his abdomen. “I’m pretty sure you’d kick my ass if I tried to go ‘defend your honor.’ Even I’m not dumb enough to try that, Stiles. And I promise that I won’t get jealous unless you tell me those other men were better at pleasing you than me.”

He was fairly sure he’d never actually experienced pleasure before just…however long ago. The clock was angled wrong for him to see it, so he had no idea how much time had passed. For all he knew his dad’s shift was already over. He cringed at the thought—he wasn’t particularly quiet anywhere, including in bed. God, he did not need his father downstairs listening to the man he didn’t particularly care for screwing his son to kingdom come. “Okay, you may have to sex me up until my brain shuts down again.”

The hand stroking his back stopped. “Wait, were they? I can totally do better, Baby Wolf. I’ll show you. You’ll never even want to think about them when I’m done--”

He had no idea what was going on at the moment. Derek was not helping him by shutting his thoughts down with his magic dick. He was going on about doing better and what was going on? “This is not shutting my mind down with that incredible cock of yours. This is…What is this?”

Derek lifted him off his shoulder and chest, which was totally not fair. He was supremely comfortable and only had to be slightly moved in order to bounce correctly. Ugh, Wolves.

“I promised not to be jealous as long as I was the best, then you brought up sex to shut your mind down and why in the hell would you do that unless they were better than me?! What were you thinking was going on?”

He rolled his eyes and tsked. “Okay, really, I thought you’d be better at keeping up with me at this. You always were when we were running for our lives in high school. Did you get old and settled, Derek Hale? Is this you being old and settled?”

Derek scowled at him, which was kind of a relief because it was hugely familiar and that meant the old Derek was still around, too. Maybe he’d finally be able to enjoy his favorite standby spank daydream. That would be awesome. “If I asked, would you ever throw me against a wall, bite my neck, and then fuck me like you hated me?”

Derek let go of his hold under Stiles’s arms, which allowed Stiles to sort of thump back into his comfy position pressed against Derek with his head against his Wolf’s shoulder. He sighed out his complete pleasure at this turn of events and allowed himself to drool on Derek’s shoulder for just a microsecond. 

“I don’t have any idea what is going on right now, Stiles. None. If you want me to screw you senseless, you’re going to have to start making some sense. Yes, I’m going to need you to verbally explain why I have to take your mind off of whatever it is that’s going on. Yes, this is me being old and settled. Yes, even though I’m not a vampire I would be glad to throw you against a wall and remind you that you’re MY bitch any time you’d like--”

YES! He didn’t even try to move his arm, but he was totally mentally fist pumping. Derek was the best boyfriend ever. “What about now? Can we do that now? Maybe in that alley behind Finnegan’s—but you’ll have to carry me there. I don’t think my legs are working again yet. God, I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed. Your cock is MAGIC, man. It’s my favorite.” He reached a hand up and patted weakly at Derek’s cheek. “You’re my favorite. Don’t tell Scott.”

“Yep, that’s it. It’s sleepy-bye time.” Derek lifted him off his lap and rolled him gently toward the wall because he was the very best person on the planet—being on the planet—person/being on the planet and protected him from the wet spot. That had to be one ginormous nasty wet spot.

“Stay there, Baby Wolf. I’ll be right back. Settle in, but don’t roll over yet.”

The bed crunched down and then popped back up where a warm body had been next to him just a moment before. He thought about rolling over to see what was going on, but he was comfy and hazy and it was just best overall if he reacquainted himself with the pillow under his head and closed his eyes, so he did that instead. Something wet and warm rubbed against his stomach, causing him to snuffle a little and wiggle down further into the mattress. Derek showed up behind his closed eyelids dressed up as Aladdin and offering him a magic carpet ride, so he took that in lieu of investigating the warm wet rubbing up his chest. This whole Beacon Hills trip had been absolutely ridiculous. He was going to Agrabah for a while.

\---  
“And WHY should I make this my problem?”

And didn’t that just sum up the whole awkward morning that was this meeting with Scott and Chris Argent. Scott spent the whole meeting fidgeting and randomly sniffing the air and then glaring at Stiles. Derek spent the whole meeting glowering at Chris Argent. Chris spent the whole meeting being Chris Argent. It was an overall unpleasant meeting. Stiles leaned forward just a bit from his position on the couch. “Because this IS your problem. You’re a hunter. They are hunters. They are not working within any parameters and eventually they’re going to piss off the wrong supernatural creature, and that creature is going to start attacking hunters in general. Do you want random supernatural creatures attacking you for no reason?”

Chris arched an eyebrow. “I live in Beacon Hills, you know.”

That was a fair point. He could acknowledge that as a fair point. Beacon Hills did sort of equate to being attacked by random supernatural creatures for no obvious reason. Still, Chris was being an ass and everyone knew it. 

“Fine, then. You should do it because the Beacon Hills pack has saved your ass on numerous occasions and you owe them.”

“You’re not Beacon Hills Pack though, Stiles. I don’t owe _you_ anything.”

Derek and Scott both growled. A grin erupted across his face. It was nice to know he was loved. “You do, Chris. You really do. I was pack then. MY ideas saved your ass—make no mistake. That thing with the water witches? Me. That moment with the gargoyles? Also me. You are breathing today because of me. Your position as a hunter, no matter how sporadic these days, gets you an in with these dickweeds. We aren’t asking you to fight them. We’re asking for information. Information should be easy for a hunter like you, yes?”

Derek rubbed gentle circles against his shoulder blade and he had to stop himself from purring like a cat and melting into a puddle. He was loved and supported. This was awesome. He hadn’t realized before that he HADN’T been supported, but here it was, completely obvious now. He did not melt into a puddle; instead, he arched both eyebrows expectantly at Chris. He knew Argent was going to help them—he could smell the acquiescence on the hunter already—but he needed to hear it out loud.

Scott hunched his way over to the arm of the couch Stiles and Derek were inhabiting, perching on it and invading Stiles’s personal bubble to sniff almost against his shoulder. He scrunched up his nose and turned his stare to his best friend. “Dude, what in the actual hell are you doing? Stop sniffing me. That’s weird, even for you. We are here to gain Chris’s help, not invade our friends’ personal space with some weird sniffing fetish.”

Scott snuffled against his elbow. “Chris is onboard. Just smell him. You smell weird—I mean, even after the bite and the turn, you smell…weird. Why do you smell weird? I don’t know this smell.”

He smacked the back of Scott’s head. “That’s probably just my scent, dick. Get off me.”

Derek leaned in close and inhaled against the skin of his neck. “Smells pretty good to me, Scott. Maybe your nose is just wrong. Consider that.”

He wondered when he’d completely lost control of this meeting. He wondered why he was even surprised. Him and Chris had always been the grown-ups of the group, even if Chris was a bitch to work with. “Maybe we can let Chris agree to work with us verbally so it’s harder for him to back out of it when things get rough and save the whole tag-team sniffing thing for some other time, boys. Let’s focus on the issue at hand, which is Chris gathering intel on these douchebags that tortured me to death and us taking them out, huh?”

Chris grunted something that could have been a laugh if he’d had an actual personality and wasn’t just a weaponized killer robot. “Fine, but it’s gonna take a bit to track anything down. I really haven’t heard anything about a cell like you described. I’ll check into it and get back to Scott, since I work with the Beacon Hills pack. It’s his job to update you.”

Scott sniffed at Stiles’s wrist like the freak he was and Derek growled like the possessive jerk he was. Stiles threw his hands up, allowing his left hand to smack against Scott’s nose. “Fine. Let’s just end this thing, please. I would like my personal bubble back.”

Chris nodded his ascent and walked out of the room. It was a fitting end to this insane trip back home. Stiles shoved Scott off the arm of the couch and told him to call when Argent knew something before standing up and pulling at Derek’s hands. “Can we leave now? It was nice seeing Dad again, but it’s time to go.”

Derek sprang up and wrapped an arm around him, a gigantic smile lighting his face up. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
